To Friends
by Thessaly
Summary: Marauding fluff for the holidays.  In which James takes a risk, Lily makes a bet, Remus makes puns, Sirius invites disaster, and everybody goes to Hogsmeade.
1. In Which James Writes a Poem

**(A/N)**…and guess who's NOT working? Me! I'm trying to write something light and less introspective than is my habit. Let me know if I succeed, please, and especially if you think it's funny. Obviously I don't own Harry Potter; that goes without saying. Why does Sirius swear in french? No idea.

"_Green as leaves in the morning's first pale light, your eyes are astounding and so are you_," Sirius read aloud. "_Merde_, James. That's not your History of Magic notes."

"What!" James's head jerked up. They were sitting in Gryffindor Tower by the fire doing homework, and the heads of other people jerked up as well. James hastily moderated his tone. "How'd you get that? That's mine, you, you..." he trailed off, trying to think of the right word. After five years of living with Sirius Black, he was running out of new adjectives and, indeed, nouns.

"Out of your bag, obviously. I did _tell_ you I was looking for your notes." Sirius danced out of the way, laughing as he re-read the paper he held.

"Give it back!"

"No." Sirius took refuge behind a chair, then fell to musing just loud enough for James to hear. The other workers returned, slowly, to their own devices, and James relaxed, just a little. "Now, who _could_ this be meant for? It couldn't be Stazzi Starrett in Ravenclaw, could it?"

James fumbled around in his bag looking for his wand. "Sirius, you bastard, where's my wand?"

"Don't have it, I swear."

"_Accio_ poem," said a new voice. The parchment slipped from Sirius's fingers before he could move and sailed into the waiting hand of Remus Lupin. He put his wand down and inked a quill. "Your wand is in your back pocket, James. As usual." Remus read the poem again. "James, this is _horrible_."

"I'm working on it!" said James, flushing. "_No one_," he looked pointedly at Sirius, "was supposed to read it."

Sirius crawled out from behind his chair, which turned out to be the one Remus was sitting in, and now he raised both hands and looked extravagantly innocent. "I was just looking for your notes."

Remus made a few notes with his quill. "If you had _any_ sense of scansion, you'd a be a better poet, James," he said.

"Don't be silly, Mooney," said Sirius from the floor, "James is the brawn and I'm the brain, remember? His talents are more in the athletic line of things."

Remus, out of long practice, ignored Sirius. "Listen: _Green as leaves in morning's first dew/Your eyes are lovely/And so are you_. That's better."

"What happened to _sugar is sweet and so are you_?" asked Sirius.

"He grew out of it," Remus said in the dry tone he had spent the last five years perfecting. Sirius chuckled. James, across the table, glared furiously at his potions essay and pretended not to hear them. Remus folded the parchment into a paper airplane and poked it with his wand. It backed up, then took off, banked around the table, and landed in James's lap. "You can recopy it."

Sirius was distracted by the flying spell. "How did you do that?" he asked.

"It's just a levitation spell with a directional charm," said Remus. "It's really not that complicated – look..."

Half an hour later James's luckless poem was still a paper airplane and was zooming around the Gryffindor common room controlled by an enthusiastic Sirius. James and Remus had gone back to work, muttering things like, "two drops of belladonna oil?" or "ingrown toenails? Why would anyone bother wasting a curse on _that_?" By ten thirty, the common room was emptying. Peter struggled through the portrait hole, looking tired.

"Detention," he said, pausing by the fire, "should be abolished. Especially detention that involves being outside in bloody November."

"It's not that cold," said Remus vaguely. He turned a page.

"Don't mind him; he's from Kirkwall," said James, nodding to Remus. "And so has a different definition of cold than the rest of us mortals."

"_Bloody_ November? Had to help Sprout with the vampiric lace vine?" Sirius asked, grinning. James laughed.

"I don't get it," said Peter a little mournfully, looking from one to the other. "I was planting after-dark turnips for that new Care of Magical Creatures lady, Grubbley-Plank."

"Blood and vampires, Peter," said Remus. "He was _trying_ to make a joke. James does that frequently and it becomes rather _trying_ after a while." He paused, then cast a glance around to see if anyone noticed. Peter blinked, James shrugged, and Sirius, after letting Remus stare for a few moments, groaned quietly.

"Oh...it's not very funny." Peter sighed, then turned to get out his homework.

Sirius made the plane dive bomb James, then let it drop into his lap. Then he stretched, got out a book and parchment and also stared at his homework.

By eleven, the students were leaving, homework done, and ready for bed. James remained, alternately working and staring into the fire. He was sitting in one of the tall wing-chairs by the fire, hidden from view. He hugged his knees and thought about girls, and one girl in particular, waiting until eleven-thirty. It was the same time every night. He checked his watch.

They joked about it, saying that you _had_ to be brave of heart to live in Gryffindor, because you'd have to listen to Evans practice her violin. Then Evans had learned to cast a silencing spell around the room where she was practicing and the jokes had slowed, but people still occasionally told them. Evans. James sighed. If anyone knew he stayed up on purpose to hear her practice he'd be a laughing-stock. What, happy-go-lucky James Potter reduced to watching the girl he liked from a distance. James shouldn't need that kind of mush, since everyone knew that James Potter could get any girl he wanted. Well, almost. And of course, the one exception was the one he was hopelessly (said Remus) and pathetically (said Sirius) fixated on. He admitted to himself that liking Lily Evans was inviting a thwack between the eyes from said Evans, but he couldn't help himself. It was getting to the point where anything that would attract the attention of that direct green gaze was _good_. But he also stayed awake to hear practice the violin.

He must have been tired. Usually he stayed quiet – like he _wanted_ her to know he was there. But this time he must have made some sound; shifted, or coughed. She stopped playing. James shut his eyes and turned his head to one side, trying to look like an innocently sleeping and overworked student.

"Is someone there? _Potter_?" He opened his eyes again and found himself staring into a pair of almond shaped, bright green eyes. Her hair was pulled back, the end of the pony tail hanging over her shoulder. He could have reached out and touched it.

"Hey, Evans." He smiled cheerfully and sat up. Potter charm, Potter charm. "I fell asleep. I hope I didn't disturb you, or...or anything. You usually practice now, right?"

"Yeah," she stepped back. "I like to do it in private," she laughed sheepishly. "Muggle habit. It's one of the ones I can't break."

"That's OK. I'm sure there are worse ones." It was the sort of line Sirius, or indeed he, might have followed with 'why don't you tell me about them some time?' but outrageous pickup lines on Lily Evans seemed...wrong. James yawned. "Sorry to disturb you. The little I heard sounded great." He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he turned to collect his books.

"Thanks. Uh," there was an awkward pause. "I'm really not very good," said Evans after a moment.

"I thought it was fine," said James again. He smiled at her, then walked to the boys dorm a little faster than he ordinarily would have.

"Something weird happened last night," Lily told her friend the next morning.

"What?" said the girl glumly. She looked tired.

"James Potter talked to me."

"Yeah, so? He talks to everyone. A lot."

"I know, but he was _nice_."

"Ok, that is kind of weird."

Then the owls arrived and the conversation fizzled out.


	2. In Which Lily Makes a Bet

**(A/N)** _Still don't own Harry Potter. A few gratuitous echoes of Pirates of the Caribbean, but I couldn't help it; tell me if it's just too revolting for words. Aurelia Fitzgerald is mine and yes, she is Costos Fitzgerald's little sister. Are you laughing yet? Let me know! _

The next night Sirius was still fascinated by the airplane. It was soaring around the common room that night, ducking stink pellets and any other projectiles his inventive friends could come up with. There was a dramatic moment when James let off a wet-start firework and the plane seemed done for, but Sirius lead it in an intricate series of figure eights around the firework until it finally died. It was at this point that Lily came in with three fourth-years. The plane swooped low over their heads and –

"Sirius, no!" It was at times like this that James wished he could just yell, 'sit!' at his best friend. He settled instead for, "You idiot!" and took a flying leap to grab the airplane remembering that it still contained his pathetic love poem. The plane dodged and James, slipping, banged into one of the fourth-years and ended on his back in front of Lily Evans. It might as well have been one of his bad dreams. Not the one about turning up for NEWTs with no clothes, but close enough. The response was automatic: James pulled out his wand and sent a hex flying across the room toward Sirius. Looking alarmed, he ducked and another Gryffindor tapestry would never be quite the same.

Evans giggled. James turned bright red. "Wow...I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to. Um. Would you believe me if I said I meant to do that?" Evans smiled at him. James suddenly felt happier. A _lot_ happier.

"No problem, really. That plane's pretty neat, though."

The fourth year's bag had slipped and she tossed her bright gold curls. "Oh, man, this is going to take for_ever_ to clean up..." Her eyes darted toward Sirius, recovered and lounging against a chair.

He watched the firelight on her gold hair appreciatively, then sauntered over. "It's Hyperiona, right? Everyone says you're brilliant at potions."

Hyperiona giggled.

"Those books look awfully heavy; let me give you a hand, huh? I can't resist a damsel in distress." Hyperiona giggled again and simpered.

Remus, who had learned in the past three years that simpering was not, in fact, only done by people in books, grinned and poked Peter in the arm, pointing at Sirius. Peter reached into his bag and pulled out a small book, flipping to the back.

"What are we up to?" said Remus.

Peter made a tally mark. "Thirty-five."

"Are you counting conquests?" The speaker had just come from the girl's dormitory. She was a tall girl with thick, yellow hair streaked with wild patches of blue, green, purple, red and orange. Aurelia Fitzgerald, better known to the world at large as Fitz, was in their year and the terror of the other Quidditch teams.

"Uh, yes," said Peter. He was wary with Fitz; most people were.

The girl looked at Sirius and Hyperiona sitting in front of the fire. "That's disgusting," she said. Then, turning, "Potter?"

James turned. "Fitzgerald?"

"When do you want us for the game?"

"Eight AM, darling."

"Don't you 'darling' me, Potter, or I'll – I'll score for Ravenclaw."

"Aurelia Fitzgerald!" James looked thoroughly shocked. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Watch me."

That Saturday, James paced the ground in front of the rest of Quidditch team. They were silent, and so was he. People didn't usually get made captain fifth year, but they'd lost a lot of the team last year and it was a young group. He wished, as he often did, that the seventh years weren't such a lazy lot, and that the sixth years had contributed more to their team than hulking Malcolm Connell. He felt as though they were hanging on him like some kind of Quidditch Messiah. Not that it was necessary, given the Gryffindor record. He grinned at Rissa Murphey, their newest member, and her eyes grew even more enormous before she managed a shaky smile. "Don't look at me like that," he said to the six faces. "It's Ravenclaw; they're good, we're better. You know what we're doing and we're going to do a bloody fantastic job with it." As they went out towards the pitch, James looked over at the other fifth year, striding towards the pitch and whistling. Fitz turned and winked at him. "_Please_ don't score for them?"

They won. And even James, skimming down with the snitch quivering between his fingers, had to admit it was good game. All the moves had been perfectly executed and the Murphey girl was going to be good, he could tell. It had gone exactly as he'd planned it... he reached the ground to be swept up by his enthusiastic team and housemates. Ah, hell, never mind the pep speeches. They'd won. They had won, and he'd done it. He could do anything.

He saw, through the rush, Evans and the other Gryffindor girls explode from somewhere and grab Fitz in a giant, laughing group hug. James felt an odd twist as he looked at Lily Evans, vibrant in a bar of sunshine, her hair falling loose over her shoulders and the auburn rich and deeply textured from the sunlight, shot through with highlights of bronze and gold and dark brown. Her head was thrown back and she was laughing. He had forgotten how beautiful she was.

"James," said a voice from somewhere near him. Remus.

"Eh?"

"You are aware that you're standing stock still in a crowd staring at that girl with your mouth open, aren't you?"

"Huh?"

From the other side of him, he heard the strains of Some Enchanted Evening start up. "You will see a stranger across a crowded room?" said Sirius, grinning maliciously. "So fly to her side, and make her your own, friend." A heavy hand descended between his shoulder blades. "Or all through your life you will dream all alone. Besides, she'll say no, and it'll entertain us."

James returned to reality. "Oh, and what makes you think that?"

"The fact that she's done it every week since the beginning of this year," said Remus. He was being reasonable, damn him.

"Well, fine, I'll go ask again. But stop that ruddy music, Padfoot."

"She's going to say no," said Peter.

"But you're forgetting one very important thing," said James, drawing himself up. "I'm James Potter. And I've just won the match."

"Love-three?" said Remus, _sotto voce_. Sirius snorted.

James turned his back on both of them and strode over to where Evans appeared to be hearing a play-by-play from Fitz. "Hey, Evans," he called, stopping by the two girls.

"Hey, Potter." Evans sounded suspicious.

Fitz gave him a short nod. "Good game, Potter." She looked at her watch. "Damn – I'll see you later, Lily; I've got detention. Slug's gonna _kill_ me." She ran towards the castle, and straight into the remaining three Marauders. Her broomstick got twisted between Peter's ankles and the three of them managed to fall down in a heap.

James turned away from the admittedly entertaining sight to look at Evans. He'd worked out exactly how to say this so that she wouldn't even think of refusing him, but all his witty charm disappeared abruptly, and he said, "Go on a date with me?"

Green eyes blinked slowly. "How many times do I have to tell you, 'no'?"

"At least once more," said James. He was going to win this time.

"Unfortunately," said Evans in a long-suffering voice, as if James were a particularly unpleasant kind of perennial mould. She twisted a bit of hair thoughtfully and tipped her head sideways. "Why do you keep asking me?"

"Because – you're, well, you're stunning," said James. "And - "

"God, how prosaic. Is it because I'm the only girl who won't say yes?" She rolled her eyes. "Well, if I did say yes, would you stop asking me?"

"You bet," said James. "After one date with me, you won't need to be asked."

"You _are_ a twat," Evans said as if answering a research question that had bothered her for a while now. "You read any Shakespeare?"

"Uh – Who?"

"Hmm...pity." Lily shrugged, suddenly, and surveyed the sight of James Potter in all his Quidditch glory. "I'll go on a date with you..."

"Damn straight you will."

"...when Remus has a date."

Their eyes met squarely. "You serious?" James heard his voice threaten to crack and cleared his throat. As far as he could tell, the only time his friend spoke to girls was in class, and then only out of necessity. As one, they both looked over to the tangle of fifth years; Peter was still on the ground, and Fitz was in the process of standing up and cursing at Sirius. She grabbed one of Remus's hands because it was convenient and pulled herself up. Remus turned bright red and dropped her hand very quickly. Fitz, still yelling, didn't seem to notice, but James and Lily did. Lily grinned.

James thought for a split second. "You're on." He put out his hand. "Hogsmeade weekend three weeks from today. If Remus spends the day there with a girl, you spend the day with me."

"If you can prove that it was a premeditated decision to spend the day together. None of this 'study-group' stuff."

"I can't promise that there won't be any books," said James. "And I can't promise public displays of affection. This _is_ Remus we're talking about." She continued to look at him with a particularly intent stare. "I'm not God, Evans."

"First I heard you admit it," she said tartly. Then, amazingly, she shook his hand. "Done. Three weeks." Then, as she turned, she added off-hand, "I hope you realize that I'm about the only girl he'd go anywhere with, and if I'm in Hogsmeade with him, I can't very well be with you too." She smiled, brilliantly, then was running after Fitz up towards the castle.


	3. In Which Remus Makes a Pun

**(A/N)**_ I am in review HEAVEN. Thank you all loads; it made my day to check my e-mail and find 12 new messages. That's more than I got for 10 (long) chapters of Narcissa angst. Wow! Anyway, I still don't own Harry Potter. Be warned, this chapter has no point and was composed entirely for the benefit of Remus and his punchline. _

It was evening again in the Gryffindor common room. James, Sirius and Peter sat on 'their' sofa in a line, staring into the fire. "I am in so much trouble," James moaned.

"Shouldn't bet on your friends, mate," said Sirius cheerfully. He folded a paper airplane and prodded it. It levitated, turned a full circle before falling, lifeless, on the table. Sirius sighed.

"I'd bet on Remus before I'd bet on _you_, Sirius."

"Duh...Where is the wolf, anyway?"

"Sirius!" said Peter in a shocked whisper.

"Term of endearment," answered Sirius breezily. "And with a name like Remus Lupin, who can blame me?"

Peter looked momentarily confused, then shrugged. "I think he's in the library."

"Like that's unusual," said James, moodily confronting the fire again.

"Yeah, he goes there a lot with Gentian Fairfax," said Peter vaguely, tucking his feet up under him.

James sat up. "_Does_ he?"

"Yeah. They study DADA and divination there almost every night."

"Think I could set them up together?"

"Remus and Gentian?" Sirius laughed. "Are you _joking_? Gen Fairfax is the only person I know who says even less than Remus. Even if they did want to go somewhere, it would take them a couple of years to admit it."

Peter laughed too. "That's like the second worst match you could come up with."

"What's the first?" asked James, intrigued.

Peter shrugged. "Dunno...probably like Sirius and Fitz or something."

Sirius bristled. "I beg your pardon? The man-eating Fitzgerald herself? Is that some kind of a sick joke?"

"Well, you flirt with her often enough," said Peter.

"I do _not_!" Sirius looked shocked, which, James thought, was a highly unusual expression for him. Sirius was about as shockable as a gyroscope. "I am, err, charmingly irritating – or irritatingly charming, I'm not sure which – because it's the only thing that puts her off. And that," said Sirius, grinning, "is _fun_. She's got a high opinion of herself, that one."

"Now that, coming from you, is funny," said Peter with a touch of sourness.

"Well, yes," said James. "But I think I saw love from an unlikely source for you, Padfoot mate, in my tea leaves yesterday."

"Oh, well then, that's all right," said Sirius, rallying. "Everybody knows you're rubbish at divination."

"Oh, _thanks_. Who does your homework, huh?"

"You're welcome, James." Sirius bowed, elegantly, from the waist. "And Remus does my homework."

"No, he does _mine_, and then you copy it."

"Details, details." Sirius prodded the plane again.

Peter stood up and stretched, then wandered over to the window. "D'you think it's going to snow?" he asked wistfully.

"I hope not," said Sirius. "Do you? I thought you didn't like the cold."

"Snow is different," said Peter with some dignity.

"Oh, it'll snow, I'm positive," said James.

"What, more of your divination? Don't believe him, Wormtail."

"Really?"

"Yeah, in December," said James.

The other two groaned.

The plane, now flying properly, sailed so close to James's head that it ruffled his hair. He made a futile grab and swore as he missed. Sirius cackled and said, "Language, Potter, language," in a fair imitation of McGongall.

Peter was still standing by the window as if he hoped the calendar would skip three and a half weeks and the snow would pour down any moment. "Hey! It's going to be a full moon." He sounded faintly surprised.

Sirius broke off tormenting James. "_Really_?"

"Oh, yeah," said James. "I'd forgotten."

"Idiot didn't remind us," said Sirius affectionately.

James rubbed his hands together. "Mischief night."

As if to prove Peter's statement correct, the portrait hole opened and Gentian Fairfax entered. Alone.

"What'd you do with Remus?" Sirius asked, with a sharp look at Gentian.

She quailed. "He said he didn't feel well. He had to go to the hospital wing." She hurried from the room.

"That wasn't very nice," said Peter, looking after her retreating figure. "You know how shy she is."

"Ahh, she'll bounce back," said James. "Let's go liberate Mooney."

They got to the hospital wing with a fair amount of fussing and toe-treading under the cloak before they realized someone had forgotten and/or lost the map. James and Sirius were inclined to blame each other. Peter, who never got the map anyway because he was the "messy" one, was prudently quiet.

"You ass," muttered James.

"Love sick fool," remonstrated Sirius. "Can't you even look after important stuff now?"

"Player."

"Dungbrain."

"Empty-headed git."

"Bastard."

"Oi, watch it." Sirius pushed him. "Screw you."

"Yeah, well, screw you too."

"That's Lily's job," whispered Remus, his voice so dry it was starting to flake. "Look, you three may be invisible, but you're hardly inaudible."

"_Three_?" Peter protested, fighting clear of the cloak. "It was all those two."

"What's going on?" Remus asked. Not that it was unusual for James and Sirius to be insulting each other for no apparent reason, of course. He looked pale, and his normally hazel eyes were more tawny than usual.

"Potty forgot the map," said Sirius, ducking away from the cloak. James, still invisible, snorted. "He was probably thinking about Lily Evans and her, uh, personality."

James's head emerged, drifting on invisible shoulders. "Um, how about no? Your 'responsible' - "

"Hey," interjected Sirius, "whoever said I was _responsible_?"

" - friend over there had it last, so logically _he_ forgot it." The disembodied head glared. "He probably lost it," James added darkly. "He always forgets stuff and he always blames it on me."

"Yeah, well, that's the unimportant stuff, like homework. And it seems to me, Mr. High-and-Mighty Potter, that _you_ forgot to add our final and most important potion ingrediant just yesterday."

"I might have done it right if somebody hadn't forgotten his book!"

"You could have brought your own," said Sirius, sounding very put-upon.

"No I couldn't. You borrowed it last week and now it's missing pages 753-800!" James shrugged off the rest of the cloak. "Anyway - "

Remus raised an eyebrow and wondered how long he had before they started hexing each other. "In case you're forgotten, James, Sirius is also missing his Cannons scarf because _somebody_ used it for a catapault last summer. It sounds," he said, relishing the groans, "like a clear case of the Pot calling the kettle Black."

"Oh, I _wondered_ what happened to my scarf," said Sirius, after acceding to Remus the necessary groan. He had tried several times to explain to his friend that he'd heard all possible puns on his name already, but that didn't stop Remus from making them anyway. James, at least, had the grace to blush.


	4. In Which Sirius Invites Disaster

**(A/N)**_Alternately, in which Sirius invites disaster, disaster accepts, and then there is a hormonally-charged fight. He also speaks some more french (I'm glad to know I'm not the only person that finds that endearing). The romance isn't handled exceptionally well, but I want to keep this light. There may be more in a different fic; I am, after all, a Serious groupie (insert groan here). As regards Miss Aurelia Fitzgerald, she owes some of her appearance Neil Gaiman's streaky-haired teen Rose Walker, and some of her attitude to my/Ben Elton's terminally angry Scaramouche (mostly a ferocious glare and some one-liners that I'm not clever enough to come up with on my own). Now that you mention it, I actually don't own anything in this. Sorry._

One week passed in a flurry of charms (Mr. Potter! Mr. Black! There will be _no more_ dueling in class!), transfiguration homework (honestly! Who would _want_ to turn erasers into ham sandwiches?) and Quidditch practice (no, Fitz, you may _not_ set fire to the Slytherin Chasers' brooms – it's definitely illegal). By the time Friday finally arrived, they were all more than ready for the end of the week. Friday morning they celebrated by a glorious explosion at the breakfast table. James, in an effort to avoid a certain agreement with a certain person, was putting all his considerable energy into mayhem. Sirius, for once, had deigned to come down to breakfast and had spent much of his time needling a grumpy Fitz. This was, it must be admitted, fairly normal, though not necessarily at breakfast.

It took Sirius exactly seventeen minutes from the explosion to annoy Fitz so much that she poured hot coffee all over him. When the flurry of hexes cleared Fitz had the coffee pot stuck to her head and Sirius was orbited by two croissants covered in raspberry jam which behaved like miniature quaffels and whacked him around the head.

"They both know they're not morning people," said Peter as they left the hospital wing a wary distance from a furious Evans later that morning. "Why invite disaster?"

"Since when does Sirius do anything _but_ invite disaster?" said Remus.

"Those innuendos were a bit much for 8:00 in the morning," said James, and yawned.

"Why would anyone want to do that with eggs?" asked Peter. "Or orange juice?"

"We'll tell you when you're older, Wormtail," said James.

Sirius was released from the hospital wing into an oddly quiet afternoon. He headed back to his room, badly in need of a shower. "You've got jam in your hair, dear," one of the paintings informed him. Sirius swore at it.

Clean, he emerged to find his room empty. Peter was probably at the library. He had a rare talent for procrastination, and often ended up in the library with five essays to write at once. Remus had a prefects' meeting, as usual. And James – where the hell was James anyway? Sirius couldn't remember.

The room felt lonely missing three-quarters of its usual occupants. Sirius picked up a pile of books and went downstairs, muttering about divination. He grabbed an armchair by the fire, tucked up his feet, and opened his book in the silence of a nearly empty room.

A few minutes later a wad of paper bounced off the top of his head. And then it did it again. He ignored it, buying himself another two minutes of peace. Then another one, launched from the same source, followed. He sighed. He knew that charm. He'd experienced it this morning.

"I know you think I'm gorgeous, but this amount of attention is just a bit much," he turned in his chair to face, across the room, the sulking shape of Aurelia Fitzgerald. "You're doing terrible things to my hair."

"Why would I care about your hair?"

"You know, I actually have no idea. Because it's long and artistically disheveled?" Sirius picked a bit of projectile off his robes and dropped it on the floor with its fellows. "You're not being very nice to the house elves who have to pick all this stuff up," he pointed out.

"They _like_ to clean," said Fitz.

They glared at each other. "Are you, by any chance, waiting for an apology?" Sirius said.

"No." She fired off a small, surprisingly heavy, piece of _bric-a-brac_. Sirius ducked. He was very good at it.

"This could go on forever," he added.

"So?"

He rolled his eyes. "Oi, just stop it, all right? This sullen _je ne sais quoi_ is really starting to get on my nerves."

"Sirius Black, you are a pretentious ass." Fitz stood up, stretched, and ran a hand through her hair. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to speak French in public?" She didn't look as annoyed as she usually did, which made him even more pointlessly angry than before.

"What?"

"Never mind. It was supposed to get on your nerves."

"Look, Fitz. I'm asking you nicely…" Sirius stood up.

"Oh, now you're going to threaten me?" Her eyebrows rose in challenge.

"No, I thought I'd skip that bit," Sirius snarled, diving at her.

She stepped neatly behind her chair. "Ooh, I'm _soo_ scared." Her tone changed as Sirius pulled out his wand. "Don't start anything you're not prepared to finish, Black."

""I'll finish _you_." He was aware, as he said it, that it was an extremely stupid thing to do. The Fitzgeralds were all Aurors, and the only person who knew more dueling charms than Fitz was Severus Snape.

"I'm faster." A jelly-legs curse erupted from her wand and missed by a centimetre.

"Yeah, but I duck better. _Tarantellegra_."

Fitz ducked. "Not so sure about that."

They were circling each other now, occasionally within ducking distance behind the furniture, but only occasionally.

"Let's be honest, Black. You duck like an average person."

"And you…don't?" She did have very quick reflexes.

"Quidditch. Sorry, Black, but you're really completely average in every way."

"And," he slid under a table and came out the other side holding someone's DADA book as a shield. "What is the point of saying that?"

"You'd _so_ like to be important, wouldn't you? All you want is attention. Public break up with your family; want to be the rich bad boy, don't you? It's all about more attention for your swelled head."

"And I usually get it." He watched her carefully. "Get to the point, Fitzgerald. What is this about? Am I taking all the limelight away from you? Is that it?" He let his voice take on a mocking tone. "Pretty Rilly Fitzgerald, you're so rebellious, so precocious, so smart, with your funny hair and your arsenal of dangerous curses."

"_Don't call me Rilly_." She dropped her wand and dived at him, hands striking his shoulders with a surprising amount of impetus.

"You are the _only_ girl I know who would try," Sirius gasped, grabbing her wrists and trying to fend her off, "attacking someone who is bigger than you."

"And I'm the only girl I know who would – _oof_ – win." Fitz answered.

"Hey!" Sirius shoved her away. "Will you just - "

"Yeah? What?"

"Look, what _is_ this about?" He dived at her and pushed her hard, pinning her shoulders against the wall.

She tossed her hair out of her face. "Oh, gee, I don't know, Black. Maybe it has something to do with the constant stream of hexes and jokes since we arrived here? How about, say, dipping my hair in the ink jars, or tripping me in the halls, or hiding my broom, or subjecting me to an unnecessary amount of sexual harassment? Well, aside from that you are the biggest and most offensive egomaniac I've ever met."

Sirius blinked, indignant. "Am not. And I never _did_ half that stuff." He paused, remembering first and second year. "Well, all right. I did some of it. But you're kind of over-reacting."

"I am not." They glared at each other. A whisper of mutual attraction slid into the back of Sirius's mind. Well, she was pretty, all right. He had to give her that. And – he was suddenly aware of the places where his hands shoved into her shoulders and how close they actually were. It occurred to him there was probably something else he could do that would bother her even more than previous attempts. And it was something he might – enjoy?

She tried to speak. "Right then," but couldn't think of anything else to follow it and cleared her throat instead.

Sirius, swallowing, moved one hand to touch her hair. "So, that means you don't hate me, right?"

Fitz suddenly looked away, visibly deflating. "Um. Not really."

"Good." She looked up again at the tone of his voice. "Because you probably will, in about ten seconds." And he leaned in and kissed her.

It was more like seven seconds. She pulled away and her eyes narrowed. "Sweet fucking Merlin."

"No, just Sirius is fine," he murmured.

Fitz slid one hand around his neck to pull his face down. "Sirius, then. You're a bloody nuisance and you know it."

"And I'm gorgeous," he said, kissing her again. "And you love it."

"Shut it," she said, laughing just a little bit.

They heard the sound outside the portrait hole at the same time and jumped apart as if hexed. Fitz dived for the nearest arm chair, turning the back to the portrait hole. Sirius, telling himself firmly that he was calm, stretched out on the sofa and picked up a book.


	5. In Which Fitz Provides Assistance

**(A/N)** _Rolls in fluff pile. Hurrah! Fluff for the holidays! Thanks for the reviews – I didn't know there were so many fluff addicts on this site. Again, I don't own anything except Fitz, and I didn't come up with the poultry joke either (but I wish I had!). This is for the person who pointed out that it's risky business betting against Remus. He's right. _

"…later, Evans," said James's voice as the portrait hole opened. Fortunately for a disconcerted Sirius and an unbalanced Fitz, James seemed inclined to linger in the hall and talk. His voice echoed in again "… all gone completely pear-shaped, Peter!"

"You could just admit the impossible and give it up," said Peter Pettigrew. There was the sound of a suppressed yawn.

"I _cannot_ give it up!" James sounded hysterical.

"Well, bye then," said Peter. "I have to get back to the library."

"Later," said James glumly, and appeared in the portrait hole. He walked over to the couch and sat down on the table. "Your book's upside down, mate."

"Oh," said Sirius. He turned it around. "I didn't notice."

"It's also a first-year transfiguration text," James added.

Sirius, most uncharacteristically, flushed and said quickly, "Maybe he's right."

James blinked. "What _have_ you been doing?"

"Nothing!" Sirius looked panicked instead of affronted.

_What the…_? "Never mind, you don't have to tell me. It doesn't usually take this little to get to you, that's all." Sirius shrugged evasively. "Well, what's he right about, then?"

"Maybe you should just give it up."

"Give up?" James repeated. "_Give up_? This is a date, Sirius, a date with _Lily Evans_."

Fitz's face, slightly flushed, appeared above the back of her armchair. "You've got a date with Lily?" She sounded like she might be shock. "How the hell did you manage that?"

"Well, sort of." James looked embarrassed.

"So?" said Sirius. "She's just a chick, yeah."

"Oh, so now we're _poultry_?" said Fitz, disappearing momentarily and coming to join the boys. "Wonderful."

"Sirius, not everyone gets to pull Nuala O'Dwyer," said James. "And Evans is, well, Evans."

"It was only once," said Sirius, but he grinned all the same. "Merlin, that was…" he searched for the right word. James, who owed undying allegiance to Evans – of course – was also a sixteen year old boy and couldn't help imaging how that might work out. "fun," Sirius finished with a smirk.

"Black, shut up," said Fitz. "We're not interested in your exploits. We're interested in Potter explaining. What do you mean 'sort of'?"

"It's, uh, conditional."

"If…?"

"If I can get Remus a date for Hogsmeade, she'll spend the day with me."

Lily's friend grimaced. "Go out with you? Lily's such a sell-out."

Sirius raised one eyebrow very slowly. "That's a bit rich coming from you, babes."

Fitz trained a glare at Sirius. "_Don't_ call me Baby, Sirius Nigellus Black. Or I'll…I'll…"

"Oh, now you're going to threaten me?" Sirius asked, his light mocking tone at its most aggravating.

"Stop it," said James, registering a thirty-degree change in the hormonal temperature. "I don't want to be here when you two start snogging."

He received looks of equal horror. "Potter!"

"James, mate, I think we need to talk about a little thing called taste…"

James shrugged innocently. It was amazingly fun to pull Sirius's jokes and gestures on Sirius now and then. "Fine, pretend I didn't say that. Just try and focus for a minute, please?" He turned towards the girl. "So, Fitz. Uh, I've got three days. D'you think it's possible? I mean, can you help me find Remus a date?"

"Don't bother," said Sirius lazily. He seemed to have recovered his calm. "She'll say no out of contrariness, or because she thinks you're arrogant. Or because she just _can't_ help you."

"Of course I can help you," said Fitz, turning her glare up a notch. "Even if you are arrogant. Let me see what I can do, although Lily will probably kill me."

"_Thank you_, Fitz," said James. There was an awkward pause, then he went into the boys' dorm whistling. Fitz fled to the girls' dorm. Sirius, stretched full-length on the couch, smirked again.

"He bet on _me_?" Remus was outraged. "The arrogant, lying, sneaky, manipulative, cheeky little _twat_!"

"Funny, that's what I said too," Fitz agreed.

"Sssshhhh…." Gentian warned. Fitz had cornered the other two in a sunny carrol of the library, but Madam Pince was ever watchful and distrusted students in groups greater than one.

"How dare he!" Remus muttered. "How dare he assume that _I_ was the one who couldn't get a date." He looked at Fitz, and blushed slightly. "I _could_ get a date if I wanted one, I just don't. And Gentian and I are just _friends_."

"Hey, I'm not arguing," said Fitz. "I'm on your side, remember?"

Gentian giggled. "If he wins, Lily is going to _kill_ him."

Remus's eyes, mild and brown, were in fact capable of catching fire. They just didn't do it very often. Now, though, they seemed to sparkle in a most uncharacteristic fashion. "Lily would kill James? Really?"

"Yes," said Gentian. "She thinks he's arrogant." Fitz nodded corroboration.

Remus grinned. "Excellent. Fitz, are you listening?" He cleared his throat. "Gentian, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?"

Gentian giggled again, then said in a gooey, over-dramatic voice, "Oh, Remus…I thought you'd never ask. I'd looooooove to."

"My darling," said Remus, catching her hands and holding them to his chest.

"My own," answered Gentian, sighing.

"Enough!" said Madam Pince. "There will be no public displays of affection and NO NOISE in my library! Out!"

Out of respect for the irate librarian – always a formidable thing – they waited until they were outside the library before bursting into hysterical giggles.

"Who do we tell? Or do you do that?" Remus leaned his head against the wall, shoulders shaking.

"I don't know," said Fitz. "Oh, my darling!" she added, doubling over.


	6. In Which They All Go to Hogsmeade

**(A/N)** _This is the last one – brace yourselves. Again, don't own Harry Potter characters or situation. Thanks for partaking of my venture into true fluffdom. Oh yeah, and does anyone know what butterbeer is made of? I'm just curious, you understand… _

"Sweet Merlin, what is going on?" said James when they came into the common room. "Don't you know better than to practice Cheering Charms in the library?"

This, of course, set them off again, Remus whooping, while Fitz collapsed on the couch. Lily, on the stairs coming down from the girls' dorm, watched as though she didn't believe what she was seeing. "Not…Cheering…Charms," wheezed Gentian.

Remus recovered himself. "Any of you lot fancy coming to Hogsmeade with me and Gentian tomorrow?" he asked, innocently.

James's mouth fell open. Peter laughed and looked a little ashamed. Sirius smiled.

Lily dropped eight large Charms books on the floor. The crash relieved her feelings somewhat. "_What_?"

Fitz exchanged a gleeful grin with Sirius, realized what she was doing, and looked away quickly. "It's true. I heard him ask her, and I heard her agree."

Lily leaned on the wall for a moment. "It can't be…I…oh, James Potter, I am going to _kill_ you!"

James went over to her and began picking up the books. "No you're not. You're going to go out with me." He looked up at her and gave his most endearing smile.

"Oh, good Heavens," said Remus cheerfully. "It'll be fun. You can James can go pottering around Hogsmeade together."

Lily and James looked at each other, then at Remus. "My God," said Lily in awe. "I don't think I've heard anything quite that spectacularly bad in quite a long time."

James shook his head. "Remus, mate. There just aren't words."

"Look," said Sirius, taking Lily by the arm and leading her to the sofa. "It can't be _that_ bad. It's only James. And if you can put an invisibility charm on him, you won't have to look at him."

"Or we can put a silencing charm on you, Sirius. Then we wouldn't have to _listen_ to you," James pointed out, recovering.

"You are very decorative," said Lily.

"But very annoying," added Fitz.

"_Silencio_," said both girls together.

Sirius blinked. Opened and closed his mouth. And proceeded to pull horrible faces at everybody in turn.

On the way down to dinner, Remus drifted up behind Lily. "Can I help you hex him?" he said quietly.

She looked up at him. "I don't think you deserve it. Good 'Evans' indeed…"

"Please?"

Lily laughed. "Oh, all right. Let me tell you what I have in mind…"

It wasn't really a date. Well, some of them kept telling themselves that. It ended up that the four Marauders, Lily, and Gentian all went to Hogsmeade in a large group. They went sweet and trick shopping, and ended up in the Three Broomsticks having a very noisy argument about how to transfigure a cactus, the fastest was to London, and what Butterbeer was actually made of.

They breezed into the Gryffindor common room, pink and smelling of outdoors and pipe smoke from the Broomsticks.

"Where's Fitz?" said James.

"Over there," answered Gentian. "She's turned gold," the girl added. Fitz, by the fire, was indeed washed in gold light from the setting sun in the windows.

Remus, with a bubble of laughter in the back of his voice, said, "Sirius, she _is_ gold."

There was a beat.

"What?"

"Huh?"

Remus sighed. "_Aur_elia, _aurus_. You know, the latin root for 'gold.' Don't you know anything?"

Sirius sighed in mild exasperation. "I think the answer to that would be no. Sometimes even you try too hard, Mooney."

James shrugged. "Oi, Fitz," he said to the scribbling girl. "We brought you a present."

"All work and no play makes a dull girl," Remus added. "Have some Butterbeer and celebrate!"

"Besides, James owes you," said Lily. "Make him pay."

"So, why didn't you come?" Peter asked.

"I had a title to write for stupid Muggle studies," Fitz answered. "And…it's…done!" she said, inking the last full stop. "Where's the Butterbeer?" Gentian passed her a bottle. Fitz popped the top and drank nearly half the bottle. It was impressive.

"Well, James, mate, it worked. How about a toast?" Peter raised his glass and grinned at all of them. "To cunning," he said.

"To punning," said Remus, laughing while everybody groaned.

"To lovers," said James, winking at Lily.

"To enemies," said Fitz, glaring at Sirius.

"To pleasure," said Sirius, with a sultry smile.

"To twats and bastards," said Lily, pulling a face at James.

"To friends," said Gentian.


End file.
